the misadventures of someone who prolly STILL shouldn't be allowed to raise children...

Monday, January 02, 2006

back in blog...

While my original intent in taking a short sabbatical from this blog was NOT to simply see how much y'all truly loved me... that certainly was a happy coincidence. Many thanks to all of you who have sent their well wishes (either by email or by comments) and requests to get back to blogging soon... how it made this wee heart swell. I am back. Well-rested and enjoying the final day of a holiday vacation that, dare I say, was a tad too long.

To those of you who are working to spread a rumor that I am with child again... well, let's just hope that my mother never figures out how to surf the net with any kind of purpose or efficiency. Have you not been reading along with the rest of us? What, in these varied tales, leads you to believe that the care of ANY additional children should be left to N. and me. No, Bean is lucky to have made it thus far with only a few hundred head wounds...

So let me say, in no uncertain terms, as of today at 11:30 AM CT... I am not "with" Bean the Second (or as he/she will be affectionately known, Garbanzo).

I am, however, woefully behind in sharing our ongoing adventures. I think that it would be overwhelming for me to try to jump in and give y'all a detailed account of the past 3 weeks -- holidays with my family, the nuances of Bean's development, and our descent into parental craziness. But, I would be remiss to simply gloss over the entire month. So, allow me to present Dec 2005 highlights, in an easy-to-follow, bullet-ed format.

N. is now a red belt, which in Special Combat Warrior School is one belt away from black. This is significant because when N. started this particular practice of maiming and disfiguring other humans, he informed me that he would be largely ineffective in deterring any attacks on our persons until he was a green belt (that was 2 belts ago). So, now that he is a red belt he knows just enough to be dangerous to everyone. I feel the need to issue a blanket warning to all would be assailants, attackers, burglars, perpetrators of general nuisance and irritation. Please don't come to our house. While I still contend that it is a 50/50 chance on who walks out with their femur in tact... I have seen our stuff. It just isn't worth it. And I never carry more than $1.65 in cash. Ever.

While we are on the subject of Special Combat Warriors... N. was also presented with the "Student of the Year" award for his commitment to the practice of this martial art. I am not lying when I say that he was a little more enthusiastic about this framed piece of paper than he was about the birth of the Bean. But in fairness to the man... Bean was kind of boring for the first few weeks/months and the award is pretty impressive in that frame.

I believe that the Christmas gifts from my MIL will most certainly win me some kind of "worst gift" award... This year's haul includes one of these (cause, you know... I like to take showers and then dry off), a trivet, and a set of lovely plastic sponge holders, complete with suction cups... I know. You don't know whether to laugh in my face or go around the corner and laugh behind my back. And it is not that I am ungrateful... just perplexed.

My mother is convinced that, if left to my own devices without constant hen-picking and intervention, I would eventually swell to the size of a small Orca.

Bean is 11 months old today. WOW. In one month's time, he has grown from a baby into a full-fledged toddler. He is walking (and falling) like a professional (stuntman), feeding himself all manner of table foods (he has developed quite a preference for black beans, which, in case you are wondering, take approx. 19 hours to move through the system of a small child), waving hello and good bye to every single freaking human being and dog everyone that we come into contact with throughout the course of the day until said person waves back or walks away totally irritated, and continuing his aggressive program of inter-species bonding. He has also developed the perfect shit-eater's grin, if I have ever seen one.

In keeping with his quick transition from infant to toddler, Bean also seems unnaturally attracted to the MOST dangerous item within reach. If offered a choice between a broken glass, a steak knife and a blow torch... you can bet that my kid is going for the fire hazard 10 out of 10 times. Not that he wouldn't also be perfectly happy with the knife... just not the same flair.

Three days after Christmas, we battled the croup (I am still recovering). I am told it was a mild case... whatever. Until last week, I had the distinct pleasure of not knowing what it is like to be hit in the face by projectile phlegm. Innocence lost. Many of you will recall that I am not much of a fan of cold weather. But last week, I was praying for temps below 40 degrees. Especially since my parents refuse to set their water heater any higher than 76 degrees, you can practically catch your death of cold just taking a shower.

I am never flying with Bean again unless he is sick or getting over the sick. You see, when he is sick, he will sleep -- happily for hours. When he is well, he must make eye contact and play the waving game with every person on the plane, at least once. And if, by the time round one is complete, we aren't in the final approach, well, I hear that repetition is ALL THE RAGE with kids this age.

During this vacation, I was forced to watch nearly 7 hours of poker, 48 hours of football, 5.75 hours of Teletu*bbies (don't judge, if it was the only thing that would silence that baby after 2 hours of whining, screaming and coughing, you would make sweet love to all of the telet*ubbies) and 3 hours of penguins dying in Antarctica.

I know that in my last entry, I rather cryptically referred to changes in store for us (thus leading to the aforementioned baby rumor). The changes are still on the horizon... a lot of it is still up in the air with respect to timing and impact on the inhabitants of casa t'pon, so I have to stay a little tight lipped for now.

Needless to say, 2006 should be a good year. Stick around for the ride, won't you?

For me, it is my own Mother who buys the perplexing gifts. They aren't even re-giftable.

OK, so I thought Garbanzo Bean was the change that was coming, but only because several posts back you mentioned peeing on a stick, and then the changes a-coming. Who wouldn't be jumping to that conclusion? And for the record, I think you and N. are groovy parents.

I loved, loved, loved your catch-up though! Looking forward to hearing what the good changes ahead ARE, and to reading more of your witty commentary on life. Happy New Year!

Glad you are back! What are you getting your MIL for her Birthday? You could always get her poo-pets. It's fertilizer for your plants in the shape of an animal.Yes~they sell these at our Zoo-what will they think of next? :)